Just for a While
by Shawanda94
Summary: And just for a while, they forgot about Gibbs and Mossad..." What I think happened in that hotel room in Paris. T for slight innuendo.
1. Chapter 1

**So this is my first attempt at a Tiva fic. It takes place before Jet Lag, in Paris. I really hope you all like it... and leave me lots of lovely reviews. **

**Disclaimer: If I owned them, you wouldn't be reading this, you'd be watching it. **

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Tony sighed as he watched Ziva say something in French to the young man at the check-in desk. He was tired, all he wanted to do was go up to his room, shower all the airplane grime off, and crash. He hated jet lag.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the fancy carved pillar in the lobby, losing himself in the sounds of Paris that were seeping in through the open doors of the hotel. He supposed this was what people fell in love with here, the sounds of the city somehow weren't as harsh as they were in D.C. People laughed more, and the language flowed beautifully, one word into the next, not choppy like English. He liked French. He wished he could understand what everyone was saying.

"Quoi?!" Maybe he didn't want to understand that. The furious voice of Tony's partner broke the peace. His eyes flew open as more loud French came tumbling out of Ziva's mouth. Tony snorted. Judging by the terrified look one the poor man's face, and the harsh tone of her voice, Ziva wasn't exactly happy. Hurrying to intervene, Tony reached out and laid a hand on Ziva's shoulder. She immediately quieted, though not with out giving the man and Tony a withering look.

Tony looked at the man (whose name tag read Jacques) apologetically. "Do you speak English?" Tony asked hopefully. Unfortunately, Jacques just looked at him, his face blank, clearly not fluent in Tony's language. Tony sighed and looked at Ziva. "What happened?"

Still glaring at poor Jacques, Ziva said, "This man has just informed me that they have screwed up our reservations and they only have one room available." Tony winced. That could cause problems. "Well ask him what the room's like."

Ziva said something rapidly in French to the wary man. He looked at his computer and started listing things. Ziva's face relaxed. "It is a fairly nice room, a jacuzzi, balcony with an excellent view, mini-bar..." she trailed off thinking of the last time she'd stayed in a room like that. They'd shared that one, too... she blushed. Tony cleared his throat, trying to get the same thoughts out of his head.

Ziva shook her head to clear it, and nodded to Jacques, who looked extremely relieved. He handed over the key and motioned to the bellhop. Ziva hurriedly shook her hand, waving him away. She never did trust hotel employees after the day one tried to kill them. She and Tony grabbed their few bags and wearily traipsed into the elevator. Their room was on the top floor.

Stepping out of the elevator, they were surprised to find that the floor had only six rooms, three on each side of the hall. They found theirs easily and Tony unlocked it. He strode in and immediately felt some of the day's stress fade away. The room was huge, and overlooked a beautiful plaza and the Eiffel Tower. Beside him, Ziva hummed her approval.

Though the room was amazing, something felt strangely off to Tony... He realized what it was the same instant Ziva did. He felt her freeze at the same time. He groaned. "It figures that we get one of the biggest rooms in the entire freaking hotel, and it has only one bed." Snorting, Ziva stated, "I call the right."

Tony conceded, not feeling up to a debate with her. He threw his bags on the bed next to hers and stated digging. He thanked God that he'd thought to pack some... respectable pajamas. "I get the shower first," he said. There was no answer. Looking up, he found Ziva on the balcony staring out at the city. Tony shrugged and figured she wouldn't mind.

Stepping into the shower with a massage jets, he hummed in appreciation. The water pounded soothingly onto his aching back.

Meanwhile, Ziva stood looking out at the city that held so many memories for her. After a long time, she returned to the room. The lights were still off, and looking around, she couldn't find Tony. Frowning, she moved toward the door, thinking he'd gone out into the hall for something. As she got closer, she heard something that sounded like muffled music.

Suddenly she burst out laughing. She recognized the song and the voice. It was one of Tony's favorite Sinatra songs. He was attempting to sing it loudly over the shower. Smiling, she went over to her bag and extracted her sweatpants and tank top.

She collapsed onto the bed, and turned on the TV to pass the time waiting for Tony to finish. She laughed as she found a rerun of one of the soap operas she'd watched during her time in Paris for Mossad.

Half an hour later, Tony fell onto the bed next to her, his hair still dripping wet. "Whatcha watchin'?" he asked. He couldn't understand a word of it, as it was in French.

Grinning, Ziva childishly replied, "Television." Tony rolled his eyes as she got up and retraced his steps into the bathroom, carrying her clothes with her. He watched her and then stared at the door that hid her from him for a while. He then turned back to the TV.

A while later, Ziva returned to the room to find Tony fascinated by the show he couldn't understand. For a moment, she simply stood there, amused as Tony focused on the screen. After a minute he turned to her, as if he were going to say something. His mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Ziva raised an eyebrow as he lay there, staring at her. She wore only her rolled up sweatpants and a thin tank top, and her curly, dripping hair was a mess, but he thought she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Of course, he didn't say this... "Tony?" her voice brought him out of his thoughts. He blinked.

"Were you going to say something?" she asked. Tony thought for a moment. He had been, but then he'd looked at her and his mind had gone blank.

"Um... I was going to say... that even though I can't understand a word of this gibberish, it's quite entertaining," he said, quickly making something believable up. She gave him a strange look, but didn't call his BS.

Going back over to the bathroom mirror, she pulled out her hairdryer and flat iron and began to wrestle with her hair, trying to make it lie flat. Tony lay, content, watching the TV, but listening to her. The mirror was around a wall, so he couldn't see her, but he could listen to her quiet mutterings in one of the many languages he couldn't speak.

After a very long time, she came to sit on the bed with him. He was lying down, so her now straight hair was all he could see of her.

"Took you long enough.," he teased.

"My hair does not like being straightened," she protested. He laughed. _Stubborn and strong, just like its owner,_ he thought.

She simply glared at him playfully. Then she made the mistake of pulling her beautiful, long hair over her right shoulder, exposing her back.

She could not say why she did it. She knew they were there, and she'd been so careful up to that point. All she knew was that when she was with Tony, she tended to slip up. She cursed herself as his sharp gasp hit her ears.

"Ziva," Tony breathed, taking in the angry, red, scars criss-crossing the expanse of skin above her tank top. She quickly got up, swinging her hair back into place. "It is nothing," she said briskly.

Regaining his senses, Tony retaliated. "Ziva, that is most definitely not 'nothing'!"

"It is over! They are healed, they do not pain me, I have all but forgotten them." She was lying. He could tell. But he didn't say anything. His mind was swirling. He knew who did this to her. He knew when it had happened, and why. And he knew he could have stopped it. Walking slowly over to where she stood by the window, he reached out and gently laid his hand on her shoulder. Her back was to him, and she did not turn around, but she let his hand rest where it landed.

After a moment, Tony took a deep breath. He began to slowly gather her hair up into his fist, giving her time to realize what he was doing. She shuddered slightly, but did not pull away. When Tony had all of her hair, he pushed it over her shoulder. He hadn't looked down, waiting until the last moment.

He took a deep breath, bracing himself. He needed to see what the bastard had done to her. Finally he gathered enough courage to look at her back. His hand tightened on her shoulder. She gently uncurled his fingers, and pulled his hand down to her own, giving him her support.

Tony could hardly believe the sight. The straight lines were red and purple, raised and rugged. He'd seen scars like this in old movies he'd watched in school. They crossed the backs of black slaves who had tried to escape their "masters" before the civil war.

Shakily, he reached out and gently rested a finger on one of them. It was rough, but not as bad as he'd expected. Ziva shivered under his touch.

Suddenly, he was angry. No, not just angry; he was furious. His hands began shaking even more. He wrenched his hand away and inhaled sharply, trying to calm himself. It didn't work.

He grabbed a pillow and threw it across the room. "I should have been there sooner!" he yelled, startling Ziva. "I should have looked for you earlier, I should have tried to contact you! I should have-"

"Tony!" Ziva was suddenly in front of him, cutting him off with a hand on his mouth. "Listen to me! You could not have done anything. You said yourself that you all thought I was dead. What could you do for a dead person? Of course you did not try to do anything. I am fine now."

Tony pulled her hand off his face and retorted, "We could have found him sooner. You could have been dead by the time we got there!" He stopped at his own words and went pale. "Oh, my gosh, you could have been dead." His knees felt weak as he pictured the scars and the way she'd looked when Saleem had pulled that sack off her head. Tony had no doubt that Saleem would have really killed her without a second thought. "Ziva..."

Ziva sighed. She knew exactly what he was thinking. She'd thought it herself so many times before. She knew that he had made it go away simply by not thinking about it. If he didn't remember how it had felt in that cell, then he didn't have to face it. Seeing those scars made him relive it, and realize that it had indeed happened. "Yes, Tony, I could have been. But I was not. I am here, with you. Look." She forced his chin up so she could look into his eyes. "Look," she repeated. "I am here. You see me. You hear me."

Tony gazed into her seemingly endless eyes, the eyes that had seen so much. Feeling calmer now, he reached out. He didn't know why he did it, but he didn't seem to have any control of his body. He couldn't get Ziva out of his head. His hand was in the air by her head, and she was looking at him expectantly, confused, wondering what he was doing.

"Yes," he whispered. "I see you. I hear you." He brushed his hand along her cheek. "I feel you." He stepped closer, leaning closer to her. His nose was near her hair. "I smell you," he murmured as her wonderful, clean, spicy scent overwhelmed him. She took a deep shuddering breath.

"You know," Tony breathed into her hair, "the only sense we're missing is taste." Ziva looked up and met his eyes. For a moment, they simply stared at each other. Then Tony leaned in, slowly, letting her know what he was doing, giving her a chance to move away. She didn't.

Closing her eyes, she leaned forward to meet him in the middle. His lips pressed against hers, soft, comforting, wonderful. He pulled away after a moment, opening his eyes. She stood in front of him, eyes shut, in disbelief. Was this really happening? He smiled, wondering the same thing, before capturing her lips again.

Her arms slid around his neck and his hands found her waist. This second kiss was more heated, passionate than their first gentle kiss. He pulled her close, so her hips aligned with his, and he could feel every bit of her pressed against him. Their lips moved in perfect synch, just like the time they were undercover, but this time he really let himself feel it. He allowed five years of carefully restrained passion to seep into the kiss. His body ached with the relief of releasing all the tension that had built up since that first day when she caught him talking to Kate. He'd felt it even then, though it took him forever to admit it.

_I love her._

Finally, they pulled apart to catch their breath. Ziva looked into Tony's desire-darkened eyes. "You see? You proved with all your senses that I am here and that I am fine now. There is no place I would rather be than here, with you." He nodded and pulled her to him once more.

That night, in a hotel room in Paris, the couple finally gave in to their deepest desires. And just for a while, they forgot they were there on a mission. They forgot about Ziva's terrible scars. They forgot about Rule Twelve, and Gibbs, and Mossad, and everything else that had ever stood in their way. Just for a while.

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**Well, that seemed to just finish itself, so let me know if you think I should add another chapter. I have an idea, but it didn't really seem to fit with the way this one ended. If you _really_ wanted me to, I suppose I could tweak it... but that would require quite a few reviews... all you have to do is click that little green button right there... I know I'm evil. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, you asked for it, so here it is! Thanks so much for all the reviews. I wish I could respond personally to all of them. I'm working on that... Well, here's Chapter Two (creative title, isn't it?) Sorry for the slight tardiness, I know I said Sunday, but hopefully that extra day will make it that much better. I do believe that this will be the last chapter, as I am out of ideas to continue this story with. BUT! Never fear, I am working on another story! Well, several other stories, and hopefully, they will be posted soon. Well, enjoy, and as always, REVIEW!! :) **

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Tony blearily opened his eyes, not sure what had awoken him. Smiling, he reached out to pull Ziva closer to him, only to find an empty, cooling spot on the mattress. Frowning he realized that Ziva no longer lay on the bed beside him. He sat up, looking around. It was still dark, and there were no lights on in the room.

Regaining his senses, Tony found her sitting on the balcony. A shawl hung over her shoulders, and she stood looking out at the city. Tony watched her for a moment. She was beautiful, her figure silhouetted by the faint glow of the Eiffel Tower. After a while, Tony quietly joined her.

She didn't turn at the sound of the door sliding open. She knew it was him. He came up behind her and gently wrapped his arms around her. She leaned back into his chest. It was so natural, like they'd been doing it their whole lives.

They simply stood in silence for a while. "How long have you been out here?" Tony asked after about five minutes. He felt her shrug.

"Maybe ten minutes before you came out."

There was a brief silence that seemed to last forever. "What's wrong?" he finally dared to ask. She sighed, and looked up at the barely visible stars.

"When I was younger," she started softly, "I took comfort in the stars. My father would go off on trips, doing who knows what... he always come back different, distant. Ari was not often at home, and my mother had to play the part of a politician's wife, and was usually out late. I was lonely at home by myself. I made friends with the maids, but they went home at night. I consoled myself by knowing that wherever they were in the world, my family was looking up at the same stars." She sighed heavily. "Now most of the people I love are looking at them from the other side. We have all been through so much, seen so much, and yet, through all of the destruction, death, and deception, they are still the same stars."

Tony remained silent, knowing she wasn't finished.

"You can see a lot of stars in the desert, even if you are looking through a dirty glass window." She fell silent, remembering all the nights she'd stayed at the window in her dingy little cell until the stars weren't visible anymore. "He never came at night. During the day, though, there was never any certainty." Tony didn't have to ask who she was talking about. "We moved randomly; as far as I knew, there was never a plan. He simply did what he felt like doing. He... interrogated me when he wanted, he moved on a whim, he made everything up as he went along. That is why he was never caught."

Tony tightened his grip on her on the word 'interrogated.' That's what he called it? It wasn't interrogation in any way, shape or form. It was pure torture. There was no other word for it.

"The stars were comforting. They were my haven. I always knew I was safe when I could see them." She paused for a long moment. "They were not the only thing I found solace in..."

Tony frowned, puzzled. "What else?"

Ziva took a deep breath. This was a huge step, for both of them. "When Saleem was... angry, frustrated, annoyed... I occasionally passed out." Tony clenched his teeth. He hated that... that _thing_ with a passion. Saleem wasn't fit to be called human. How could he have knowingly done all of that without a trace of guilt or remorse? If Ziva sensed his anger, she ignored it. "I prayed for that darkness sometimes. A release from all the pain, helplessness... hopelessness. And I prayed for the face that came with the darkness. He was always there. When I was unconscious, sleeping, or delusional, he always showed up. He would talk to me. Make me laugh. He would make reality go away. Just for a while, I was home, safe... happy."

Slightly hurt, and very jealous, Tony wondered who she was talking about. His first thought was Micheal. But she had admitted that Micheal had betrayed her, lied to her. He couldn't help himself. "Who?"

Turning in his arms, Ziva smiled up at him. "Well, his name is Anthony DiNozzo. Jr., of course." Tony was flooded with immense relief. Grinning, he leaned down and kissed her gently.

Pulling away, Ziva looked him in the eyes and said, "You were the one thing that kept me sane. I saw you everywhere. I could not believe it when you were actually sitting in front of me that day. I still cannot believe it." Tony pressed his forehead against hers. She closed her eyes, reveling in their unguarded closeness.

Tony sighed. It was his turn now. "You know, I wasn't lying when I said I couldn't live with out you." Ziva gave a slight chuckle.

"Of course you were not. You were full of truth serum."

"Shush," Tony retorted. "Well, I'm not now, and I'm saying it again. I can't live without you, Ziva. When Gibbs told us your ship sank and there were no survivors... I lost a part of me. I could practically feel it being ripped away from me. It was the part of me that belongs to you, that has always belonged to you. Gibbs sent us home right afterward. I don't even remember driving home. I only remember sitting on my couch, numb. All I could think about were those words: 'No survivors.' I think I sat there for about two days. On the second night, Gibbs came. He stayed with me that night, just talking. I don't really remember what he said, but whatever it was, it helped a little. I got up the next day, I ate, and I went to work. I don't think I really did anything though... I kinda just sat there. McGee looked pretty bad too, but he at least acted like he was alive. Abby didn't wear any makeup for a week, and I think she only had one Caf-Pow a day." He laughed quietly. "Reminded me of that time she tried to give up caffeine."

Tony swallowed hard, bracing himself for what he was about to say. "Ziva... during those two days, I only remember one thing. I realized sometime in there that..." he took a deep breath. " I love you."

Ziva looked up at him. He had closed his eyes, looking almost as if he expected a scolding or punishment. Smiling, Ziva reached up and ran her thumb along his cheekbone. She brushed it against his eyelids. He opened them in response.

"I love you, Tony."

Tony stood there for a minute, stunned. She... She loved him? _Him?_ Suddenly, his face broke into a broad grin. Laughing, he grabbed her waist and spun her around. It was a total cliché, but he didn't care. She loved him! Putting her down he pulled her in for another passionate kiss. He could feel her smiling under his lips.

Finally, they broke apart, but Tony didn't plan on letting her go anytime soon. Wrapping his arms around her he sat on the wide balcony railing, his back to the wall of the turned, pressing her back into his chest. She placed her hands on top of Tony's, which lay on her stomach.

They sat out there for some time, taking in the magnificent view. _The City of Love, indeed._ Tony thought. _I guess if even Almighty Gibbs couldn't resist its spell, there was no way Ziva and I could._

Meanwhile, back in Washington D.C., Abby was focusing on her computer screen. "Where is it, where is it?" she muttered. Behind her, McGee was looking over his shoulder like he expected someone (Gibbs) to enter the lab at any moment and catch them.

"Abby," he hissed. "We really shouldn't be doing this. Besides, its like, 3 A.M. in Paris. What are they going to be doing besides sleeping?" Suddenly, he closed his eyes, immediately regretting the question.

"Well, McGee," Abby said as if she were explaining something complicated to a six-year-old, "when two people like Ziva and Tony love each other very much-"

McGee cut her off. "Ugh, Abby, I really didn't need that picture. Anyway, I booked two rooms, one for each of them. They are sleeping in separate rooms."

Abby turned back to the computer. "Well... they _did _have two rooms. But then, a certain woman with an Israeli accent decided that two rooms weren't necessary."

McGee frowned. "But why did Ziva..." He trailed off, taking in Abby's smug face. "You didn't..." Abby's smile grew. "You did," McGee said in defeat.

Abby cackled. "You know, it's actually really easy to imitate her accent if you've spent as much time with her as I have."

McGee groaned. "Well, Abby, they're adults. Just because they shared a room doesn't mean they-"

"Found it!!" Abby yelled, startling McGee.

Peering at the screen, McGee was stunned into silence. "They did," was all he could say. "Awww!" Abby proclaimed.

Abby had managed to find a nearby security camera and had aimed it at the couple's balcony, where the two were currently embracing. They were talking. About what, McGee and Abby couldn't tell, as the tape had no audio.

"They look so cute!" Abby exclaimed. McGee had opened his mouth to say something when suddenly, Tony swept Ziva up and spun in a circle, laughing. The moment he put her down, they were kissing.

Abby squealed. "McGee! I knew it! That was the most adorable thing ever!"

McGee was currently staring open-mouthed at the screen, feeling slightly nauseous. "Abby, it's our two best friends and coworkers making out. It's disgusting!" Lowering his voice, he muttered, "Bet he got that right out of one of his stupid, cheesy movies..." Before he could finish his thought, however, Abby had thrown her arms around him, completely ignoring everything he'd just said. Shocked, all he could do was wrap his arms around her, too.

"Makes me kinda wish I had someone like that," Abby said wistfully. Looking at the happy couple on the computer, McGee took a deep breath. He knew he had a chance at something like that, and all he had to do was let her know.

"You know, Abby, maybe you already did. Maybe he just... messed up. But maybe, he's still there, waiting for you, because he knows that it was supposed to turn out all right, not like it did."

Abby pulled her head away from his chest and squinted at him. "Have you been stalking me and my boyfriends?" she accused.

Panicking slightly, McGee tried to backtrack. "No, no, no, I was, I was just saying that maybe you, uh, I mean I, um-

Chuckling, Abby leaned forward. "I love you too, McGee." She pressed her lips to his. It was just as sweet as she remembered.

The next morning, Gibbs walked into the office with his second cup of coffee. Frowning he glanced at his watch, then at McGee's desk. It was still empty. He hung his head and sighed, knowing where he would probably find him.

Gibbs was greeted by silence when he stepped off the elevator into the basement. He walked quietly into the lab. He was not surprised when he found McGee on the futon, Abby ensconced in his arms. They were both snoring gently. He gave a small half-smile. He'd always known it would happen.

Turning to the computer, he found an image of a hotel. After a moment, he realized it was a moving image. Probably a security camera. Wondering what was so special about a hotel, he clicked the button he thought would rewind the tape. He figured he'd hit the right one when the sky started getting darker in the background. After about eight hours had passed by in fast motion, he quickly hit the little triangle to play it. He sighed. He'd predicted that, too. Tony and Ziva were sleeping in a chair on the balcony the camera was aimed at. Ziva was curled up in his lap, and his arms were wrapped possessively around her.

When he'd gotten the news that two of his team would have to go to Paris to protect a witness he knew Tony and Ziva were the obvious choice. The only thing he was apprehensive about was the fact that it was _Paris._ Those two had been in love since the moment they first laid eyes on each other.

He stood there for a while, watching his agents awake in each others arms, kiss, smile, talk. He relived his own time in Paris. He missed Jenny immensely. He knew that she was probably watching them from wherever she was, thinking the same things.

After a while, Gibbs reached out and returned the camera to live time. Striding out of the lab and into the awaiting elevator, he murmured, "Well Jen, we had our time. I guess it's theirs now."


End file.
